


Closing Time

by OhHeyAl



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 22:19:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7592449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhHeyAl/pseuds/OhHeyAl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Dude, are you okay?” The voice is muffled, even though it sounds closer than it needs to be. Lance looks up from the nest he’s made with his arms and sees the bartender staring down at him, his hand stilled in the middle of wiping the bar of residual sticky substances.</p><p>“My man, I am most certainly not okay,” Lance replies, his speech slurred and his long arms waving around haphazardly.</p><p>“Uh, you wanna talk about it or something?” Bartender Boy is starting to look more and more attractive to Lance, with his artfully messy black hair and fitted shirt. The look on his face is obviously one of pity or maybe even concern, and Lance just really needs someone who’ll listen right now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closing Time

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo I spent the whole day reading Voltron fanfiction and this song just came up on shuffle while I was already thinking about Klance and I just had the sudden urge to write this! Enjoy my totally self-indulgent fluff, because my space boys need to let loose once in a while. (Just a warning, I was too excited to post this to edit anything so I'm super sorry if it's OOC or anything like that. Comments help me to improve!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧)
> 
> The song is Closing Time by Semisonic
> 
> _So gather up your jackets, move it to the exits_  
>  _I hope you have found a friend_  
>  _Closing time_  
>  _Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end_
> 
> _I know who I want to take me home_  
>  _I know who I want to take me home_  
>  _I know who I want to take me home_  
>  _Take me home_

Lance wasn’t a big fan of one night stands, contrary to—what he liked to think was—popular belief. But after being dumped by the nth romantic interest, the concept began to sound more and more appealing. Especially as the glasses of alcohol continue to slide into his hand.

Lance didn’t get it. He was a gigantic romantic and he always showered whoever he was with, guys and girls alike, with all the attention and affection in the world. He was the _best_ boyfriend! What sucked the most was that his most recent failed relationship was also his _longest_ one, by far.

This girl was his sun and moon and stars. Her eyes held all the answers to the universe. Her smiles were crooked—the left side of her mouth always lifted a little bit higher and it was the corner he always liked to kiss. She was beautiful, she was intelligent, she was funny _and_ she always laughed at his jokes, no matter how silly they were. She made him happy.

She was perfect—

or so he thought.

“Hey, man, last call,” the bartender calls out to him from the other end of the bar. Lance, too tired to even raise his voice, just raises one finger, signaling the other man to bring him another of the same drink.

They’d been together for two years. They lasted a year and a half longer than Lance’s other relationships. He was getting ready to ask her to move in with him (he already had the keys made and everything). _Maybe that’s why she left?_ Maybe he scared her off, maybe it was his fault for moving too fast, maybe, maybe, maybe—

Maybe this last drink was a mistake. The room is starting to spin and sitting on the tall bar stool was starting to look like a mistake.

“Dude, are you okay?” The voice is muffled, even though it sounds closer than it needs to be. Lance looks up from the nest he’s made with his arms and sees the bartender staring down at him, his hand stilled in the middle of wiping the bar of residual sticky substances.

“My man, I am most certainly _not_ okay,” Lance replies, his speech slurred and his long arms waving around haphazardly.

“Uh, you wanna talk about it or something?” Bartender Boy is starting to look more and more attractive to Lance, with his artfully messy black hair and fitted shirt. The look on his face is obviously one of pity or maybe even concern, and Lance just really needs someone who’ll listen right now.

So he talks.

He talks until he’s the only one left at this bar that was conveniently close to his campus. He talks until Keith (he eventually learns Bartender Boy’s real name) has finished cleaning up and is now seated beside him. He talks until he’s not really making any more sense but it’s his only way to deal so fuck it.

Keith learns that when Lance isn’t completely heartbroken by his recent loss, he’s a huge idiot, a failed flirt, and a genuine nice guy. He’s not so bad to look at either. In different circumstances, he’d probably hate the guy, but he can’t bring himself to now, not when Lance had just laid out all his most vulnerable parts to him—a stranger he’d just met.

He glances up at Keith a lot. The guy—he already notices—has a wide array of facial expressions ranging from concerned to annoyed to highly amused. Lance finds that he likes it when Keith furrows his eyebrows in thought and when he tries to cover his snickers behind his hand. He likes the veins lacing Keith’s arms and the way his voice sounds when he calls Lance “stupid”, like he doesn’t make it sound like an insult but more like a term of endearment.

And so, in another fit of stupidity blamed entirely on the alcohol still flowing in his bloodstream—

Lance kisses him.

And it feels great, despite the bitter aftertaste of beer on his tongue. He senses Keith’s shock in the way his body spasms, completely caught off guard. But then he feels the other boy’s shoulders shrug as he places his hands on them (he feels sturdy and warm and oh so welcoming) and they both lean in closer because maybe all they really needed was _this._ This split-second of losing their minds and making out with almost-complete-strangers.

Keith pulls back first, hands still on the back of Lance’s neck, and breathes like he just ran a marathon. “Wow. Well, uh, that was definitely... something,” he says, his voice deep and hoarse, while Lance is absentmindedly humming to some unknown tune.

“Do you wanna go back to my place?” Keith stares back at Lance’s completely unabashed look, face flushed from intoxication and heat and maybe a little bit of frustration. He’d like to think that he’s still completely blindsided by Lance but really, after hearing all his stories, he shouldn’t be surprised anymore.

Lance suddenly grows some semblance of embarrassment as he manages to rethink the words he’d just said. “I don’t mean it like _that,_ I mean it like, you’re cool and I kinda hate you for it but I also can’t ‘cause you’ve put up with me the whole night when you could have easily kicked me out and gone home to bed and—”

And Keith shuts him up with another kiss.

“Let me just close up.”

Lance beams from where he’s sitting, all emotional and blissed out from the kisses. He starts to reach out for his half-empty glass when a dishtowel slaps him across the face.

“No more drinks! It’s closing time.”

He just grins when he recognizes the tune Keith whistles as he turns his back to him, while Lance simply hums along.


End file.
